give cupcakes a tire iron. call them some shit. fight cupcakes with tire irons. fists.
when the cupcakes stab you with the flat end of the tire iron, it will hurt. there will be huge gaping holes made in the side of your chest, and they will bleed all over the concrete where you gave the cupcakes tire irons.
you will probably fall to the ground on your knees at some point, just to get another hole punched in you by another cupcake with another tire iron.
rust will be pulling in and out of your chest cavity.
later, when it gets dark, the cupcakes with tire irons will get tired, and go to bed and leave you to bleed alone.
that guy from hbo’s entourage is on jay leno, the cupcakes will think.
the cupcakes will leave their tire irons on the bedside table, next to their watches and change, and will fall asleep watching that guy from entourage talk about a chips ahoy commercial he made when he was ten.
this time. this is the time, when you can sneak up, all bleeding and snot covered rust covered and shit, and just stare down at the cupcakes through the house window.
bleed on house bushes that aren’t yours.
jump in the cupcake house pool and swim and bleed.